Special Tactics Squad 1 17
by Hitotsune-Kozo
Summary: Sometimes a situation does not need a Republic Commando, but is not suitable for the Grand Army. Enter the Special Tactics Command. This is a story of STC Squad 1-17. Rated T for sci-fi violence and language. Mainly original characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own Star Wars or anything associated with it. I do not own the Galactic Republic, the Seperatists, the Jedi, and so on. All I own are the characters of Special Tactics Squad 1-17, General Monka Monka of the Seperatists, Master Bel Rof, and Padawan Askara Jento. And if any of you want to use them, ask me first.

**Author's Note:** Special Tactics Squad 1-17 consists of Chief (CT-1543), Thirteen (CT-1313), Whacker (CT-5505), Sabre (CT-6674), Falcon (CT-6675), Hunter (CT-4509), Pillar (CT-2552), and Cryo (CT-0104). Sergeant Kal Skirata was the primary training sergeant for STS/1-17.

**Special Tactics Squad 1-17**

**"No Falling Back"**

_Formulca, Tarsis System_

_"We're nearing the battle zone now, sir,"_ the clone pilot of the LAAT/i radioed back to the Jedi master in the troop bay.

"Good man," Master Bel Rof replied. The gray-haired human Jedi looked over the troop compartment of the troop transport. With him and his padawan were two squads of clone troopers. But these weren't any ordinary clones; nor were they the more independent Republic Commandos or the covert ops ARC troopers. These 16 clones were from the Grand Army of the Republic's Special Tactics Command. More independent than the regular clones, but less so than the RCs, STC clones were intended for special operations in support of the main army. Inserted into battle zones ahead of line combat units, STC clones were deployed in two-squad formations, up to a company in size. Like normal clones, STC clones had started with the Phase I armor; however, unlike the GAR or the RCs, STClones never upgraded the external appearance of their armor; each pair of ST squads had had a Mandalorian as their primary training sergeant. The Phase I armor was the closest in appearance to the Mandalorian armor, so STclones never changed that. Everything else was upgraded, though. The primary color of STC armor was a broken-patterned black-and-dark-gray scheme; secondary colors were used to individualize each squad.

"Alright, boys, we're five to dirt," Master Rof told them. He was informal with everyone who knew him, and the two squads with him - Special Tactics Squads 1-17 and 1-32 - had been his since he had learned of the GAR's existence. He despised the use of clones, not because he hated them, but because they were essentially a slave army that few other Jedi thought to question. He loved his soldiers like they were his own sons, and often placed himself in harm's way to ensure they survived. Because of this, they were willing to throw themselves into harm's way for him. As Thirteen of 1-17 had said, "He may be _jetii_ by training, but he's _Mando_ to us."

"You mean the ride's over?" asked CT-6675, Falcon. "But we didn't get our free in-flight movie."

"What would you know about an in-flight movie, free or otherwise?" retorted CT-5505, Whacker. "Your idea of a normal movie are those after-action mission vids from the GAR."

"Alright, can it, you _di'kut_," Master Rof said, smiling. His troopers appreciated that not only did he respect the culture they'd been given by Sergeant Kal Skirata, but that he'd willingly picked up _Mando'a_ - as well as other aspects of the Mandalorian culture. "Gear check!" Immediately, the sixteen soldiers began disassembling and reassembling their weapons and supplies. Then they passed their gear over to a squadmate and disassembled then reassembled it. Then came an armor check. Their suits may look like Phase I models, but they were equipped with top-of-the-line electronics and systems. Everything checked out one hundred percent.

_"Incoming fire, sir. Executing evasive manuevers."_ A pause. _"Sir, we getting redeployment orders. Battalion command is requesting a drop on a Seperatists C-and-C facility, per your approval."_

"Take us there, Hawx," Bel Rof replied.

_"As you order, sir,"_ the pilot replied. The LAAT/i began banking while evading the anti-air fire, heading towards where BatCom (Battalion Command) believed the Seperatist Command and Control Center to be. _This mission would be better suited to a Commando unit_, Bel thought. Then he caught sight of his padawan. "Are you alright, Askara?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Master," she replied, though the young human girl looked anything but. One of the clones from 1-17, Thirteen judging from the number painted onto his right shoulder pauldron, removed his helmet and cleared his throat. "Ma'am?" he said, drawing everyone's attention; Thirteen rarely spoke outside of the mission, so his speaking now drew everyone's attention. He held out a military-issue stim pack. "We all take one before a mission," he said softly. "Everyone knows clone pilots are crazy, and no one wants to lose it in their _shabla_ helmet. Sorry for the language." It was the most he'd said at once, and everyone was surprised, even his squad brothers. The young Jedi smiled hesitantly and took the pack. "Thank you," she said to him. He shrugged and said, "_J'hagwa na yoka._" When the padawan looked confused, Thirteen looked to the side. "Sorry, Commander," he said. "It . . . basically means 'no problem.'"

"Oh," she said thoughtfully.

"It's Huttese, Commander," CT-1543, Chief, the leader of Squad 1-17, said. Before anyone could say or add anything more, a sharp _bang!_ resonated throughout the troop compartment.

_"Incoming fire is intensifying, General Rof,"_ the clone pilot, Hawx, said calmly. _"Oh, _osik_."_

Just then a massive explosion shook the entire LAAT/i, knocking everyone against their restraints. Bel Rof knew what had happened, thanks to the Force; their pilot was dead. "Alright, everyone, we're executing an uncontrolled descent."

"Oh, I thought we were crashing," said CT-4509, Hunter.

"That's what he said, _di'kut_," replied Sabre.

"Brace for impact!" Rof yelled, three seconds before the flaming Republic Gunship slammed into the surface of Formulca at two-thirds its maximum speed.

Thirteen blinked, wondering when night had fallen. Then he realized his helmet was rebooting when his vision flickered and cleared. He groaned, then shook his head. He began taking stock on his condition, seeing if anything was broken or torn. To his surprise, he found that other than a sprained tendon in his left leg, he was fine.

"Good. You're awake," came a voice from his right, broken up by coughing. Looking, he saw it was General Rof.

"Sir!" he said in alarm, once he'd realized the Jedi's condition. His left arm had been ripped from his body, and what looked like a piece of the gunship's internal framework was embedded within his abdomen. Thirteen moved to grab his medpack, but was stopped by the general's wave.

"It's too late for me, Thirteen," he said, coughing up blood this time.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"You did nothing wrong, _ad'ika_," Bel Rof told him. Even if Thirteen had wanted to, he couldn't say a word. The general had just called him 'son'. Then it came to him.

"_Jatne'buir darasuum_," he said softly, which was _Mando'a_ for 'best father forever'. Bel's eyes widened in surprise and became misty. He shakily reached up a bloody hand and laid it upon Thirteen's shoulder.

"If I knew the words," Bel said in a faint, croaking voice, "I would adopt all of you as my sons, though it isn't the Jedi way."

"That you want to is enough, _Bel'buir_," Thirteen replied. Then, sensing that the general didn't have much time left, he decided to say something that Sergeant Kal had taught his original squad. "_Bal kote, darasuum kote, Jorso'ran kando a tome. Sa kyr'am Nau tracyn kad, Vode an_. And glory, eternal glory, We shall bear its weight together. Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all."

A spark came into the Jedi master's eyes then, before life left them altogether.

"You did right, _vod'ika_," Hunter said from behind him.

"He deserved more," Thirteen replied, grabbing the Jedi's lightsaber before standing up. Taking his vibroblade, he carefully carved the Jedi's name into the hilt before clipping it to his combat gear. "_Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum_, Bel Rof," he said. When he looked at Hunter, he saw a nod of approval. It made him feel better. "I remember all who leave."

"One more thing, _ner vod_," Hunter said. He took out what looked like thermite tape from a pouch on his combat harness, but this was smaller and much thinner. Thirteen didn't move as his brother placed a transplas membrane on his left shoulder pauldron over hee bloody handprint Bel Rof had left on his left shoulder pauldron, then traced it with that odd thermite tape. Hunter triggered it, and there was a split-second bright flash. When Thirteen looked, he saw that the handprint had been literally sealed into his armor. Looking at his brother, he nodded.

"Let's take him to the others," Hunter said, motioning for Thirteen to pick up the Jedi's body. Hunter took the lead, and decided to answer his brother's unasked questions. "Squad One-Thirty-Second didn't make it," he said sadly. "Their side of the larty took most of the impact. The commander made it, though, as did the rest of our brothers. More for you to remember."

"To never be forgotten," Thirteen corrected. "The commander."

"She's young," Hunter replied. "Inexperienced, even as a _jetii_. Uncertain. But Chief says she is like _ti'haar_, if you understand his meaning." Thirteen clicked his comm once to indicate he understood; according to Bel Rof, _ti'haar_ was an alcholic drink distilled from fruits until it became a strong, clear spirit. Which was what Chief meant when he said that.

"Tough?" he asked.

"Like _beskar_."

They remained silent until they reached the impromptu camp that had been set up in the shadow what was left of the gunship. Askara Jento came out to meet them, followed by Chief and the rest of Squad 1-17. Hunter and Thirteen gently and reverently laid down the fallen Jedi's body. Thirteen took Bel Rof's lightsaber off of his harness, hesitated slightly, then held out to the young padawan. She looked at it, then him, then back to the lightsaber. Reaching up, she gently pushed it back to him. Even she hadn't possessed the Force, Thirteen's surprise was evident.

"Keep it," she said softly. "He would have wanted you to." She looked at her dead master. "Chief told me you are considered the squad's 'remembrancer', that you never forget the dead you know."

"Always remembered, never to be forgotten," Thirteen said quietly. Hooking the lightsaber back to his harness, he was again surprised when she held out her hand. In it were eight namechips; the ones that were found on the front of clone armor. They only gave the clone's number, as that was how the Kaminoans saw them, but Thirteen could recall each name.

"I got these for you, too," she whispered. He reached out and, one by one, took them and slipped them into a special compartment on his belt. "I'm too young for this," she said quietly, grabbing all eight of the clones' attention. "I know I am. I don't have any experience for a situation like this. All I can promise is to do my best." Chief doffed his helmet, and the other seven followed suit.

"Ma'am," he said, meeting her gaze squarely, "that's all any of us can do."

They wouldn't leave their brothers, or Bel Rof, for the Seperatists to find, but they couldn't take them with them, nor did they have time to bury them. It was the padawan who came up with the suggestion. They placed all of the bodies in the wreckage of the gunship, set thermal detonators on the intact fuel tanks, and blew it into a crude but somehow fitting funeral pyre. Thirteen performed his ritual as the remnants of the gunship detonated, adding eight more names to his list. It was as they set out to link up with Republic forces on-planet that they got the transmission.

_"To all GAR personnel. We are withdrawing off-world. CIS forces are too strong for our current strength. We have called for reinforcements, but have no estimate on an arrival time. All GAR personnel are to fall back to Rally Point Alpha-Gamma-Sigma-Niner-Seven."_

Then the transmission repeated twice more before falling silent. Squad 1-17 looked at Chief, who in turn looked at the young padawan.

"Commander?" he said.

"What?" she asked, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"Command has ordered us to fall back as part of a general retreat. But we will follow your orders, whatever they may be."

"How can you have such faith in me? Such trust?" she asked. They all looked at Thirteen, and Askara followed suit. He simply reached up to touch Bel Rof's lightsaber. She seemed to understand the gesture, and nodded. To outsiders, the padawan's change in posture wouldn't have been very evident. But to clones who had been raised together, who had learned to interpret every minute gesture and facial change, it was as obvious as a flare in the dark. Her back straightened, her shoulders shifted back, and her expression hardened.

"Buckets off," she said quietly. Not one of them questioned her; they removed their helmets. Looking each one of them in the eye, her gaze came to rest on Thirteen. He intuited her command before she spoke it, and straightened up, nodding to her. A faint smile appeared on her face as she said:

"No falling back."

**Author's Note:** So that's it. The first installment of my first non-Teen Titans fanfic. Please review it so I can know if y'all liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own Star Wars or anything associated with it. I do not own the Galactic Republic, the Seperatists, the Jedi, and so on. All I own are the characters of Special Tactics Squad 1-17, General Monka Monka of the Seperatists, Master Bel Rof, and Padawan Askara Jento. And if any of you want to use them, ask me first.

**Author's Note:** Special Tactics Squad 1-17 consists of Chief (CT-1543), Thirteen (CT-1313), Whacker (CT-5505), Sabre (CT-6674), Falcon (CT-6675), Hunter (CT-4509), Pillar (CT-2552), and Cryo (CT-0104). Sergeant Kal Skirata was the primary training sergeant for STS/1-17.

**Special Tactics Squad 1-17**

**"No Back-Up Needed"**

_Formulca, Tarsis System_

"We'll have to stick to short-range comms, Commander," Chief said, his helmet tucked under his arm. "SOP."

"I . . . I guess that makes sense," Askara replied a little hesitantly.

"Comm detection," Sabre spoke up. "Short-range tactical comms are hard to track and eavesdrop on."

"Oh," the young padawan said as she realized what they both meant. "Okay, I get it. If we use the comms over long-distances, someone could, um . . ."

"Triangulate, ma'am," Cryo suggested helpfully.

"Right," she said sheepishly. "Someone could triangulate us. We should move out, right? I mean, someone probably saw the gunship go down, and then the explosion, so there probably are droids on the way."

All eight of the clones were looking at her. Considering that she hadn't had any military training, and that she was - by her own admission - inexperienced in such matters, that was a rather astute and on-point observation.

"Right, ma'am," Chief said. "Squad, buckets on." The eight clones put their helmets back on. "Check gear." Askara watched, entranced, as 'her' troopers reviewed their gear quickly yet efficiently. Chief, Sabre, and Falcon each carried what looked like a cut-down DC-15 as their primary weapon, it looked less bulky in addition to being shorter. Hunter carried a gun she wasn't familiar with. When he noticed her confused look, he said, "Ceejay-fifty concussion rifle. Good piece of kit." She simply nodded in answer. She was intensely curious about, but knew they didn't have the time for an explanation; Master Rof said her curiosity was both a blessing and a curse. Pillar, she saw, used a normal DC-15, but carried what she thought were explosives on his webbing. _And probably in his pack_, she realized. Cryo carried a grenade launcher of some kind, it seemed. Whacker carried an obvious weapon: a Z-6 rotary blaster, along with a DC-17 pistol. In fact, all of Squad 1-17 carried the DC-17. Thirteen, though, carried a pair of them, along with three vibroknives, a vibroblade, and a DC-17m with two attachments.

"That's, um, that's a lot of weapons," Askara said hesitantly.

"Each one has a story, ma'am," Thirteen replied quietly.

"Would you tell me, later? If there's time?"

The heavily-armed clone soldier looked up at her, and she could sense the slight smile he was wearing under that helmet. "If there's time," he agreed. Once the squad was finished inspecting their weapons, equipment, and supplies, they paired up into four two-man teams: Chief and Thirteen, Whacker and Sabre, Falcon and Hunter, and then Pillar and Cryo. Chief and Thirteen took point, Pillar and Cryo took rear, and the other two fire teams guarded the flanks; Askara decided to walk in the middle, since she only carried her lightsaber, which was useless in a long-range fight. _I don't want to get any of them killed_, she told herself. She drifted back until she was close to Pillar and Cryo.

"What should I do?" she asked them.

"Keep an eye out," Pillar suggested. Cryo agreed.

"I imagine that your Jedi powers can find wets - organics - pretty good," he said.

"Well, I'm still learning but I think I can do that," she said.

"That's the spirit, Commander," Cryo reassured her.

"I'll keep quiet until it's safe to talk," she replied, "since I don't have a bucket."

The two clones nodded, a little more impressed with their young commnader. They looked at each other slightly then refocused their attention on their surroundings. _She may be a kid, but she learns fast. Which she'll have to._

Thankfully, it had been after local sunset when 1-17, with their Jedi commander, had awakened and regrouped. When they moved out, it was full-dark, so the custom color configuration of the squad's armor blended in much easier than solid black would have. The only drawback was the brown and tan robes Askara wore. But she learned about moving stealthily from watching the clones, and she had sufficient control over the Force to actually hide herself from a person's awareness. Her squad could see her there, of course, but they found that they had to focus on her to remain aware of her; if they tried to keep her within their situational awareness, they found that it was almost like she wasn't there.

"That's just creepy, _ner vod_," Hunter whispered.

"I think it's _kandosii_," Falcon replied just as softly. They may have been wearing their helmets and using short-range comms, but training and old habits died hard. Up ahead, Thirteen stopped and raised a clenched fist. Everyone, including Askara, froze in place. Thirteen had been further ahead than Chief was, as he was the squad's main scout and had an instinct for walking point. He moved his arm horizontal to the ground and changed his hand to a flattened palm. Immediately, the whole squad scattered and hit the ground, although Askara was a second slower since she wasn't too familiar with the hand-signals the squad used. For a few minutes, no one heard anything. Then came the familiar _clank_ing of battle droids.

"Thirteen, numbers," Chief whispered. Thirteen didn't answer right away; he was moving closer to the droids to get the answer.

"Double column, platoon strength," he whispered. "Wet present, Rodian."

Askara crawled up to where Chief was lying. "What's going on?" she asked quietly.

"Tinnies, Commander," he replied. At her blank look, he said, "Droids."

"Will Thirteen be okay?" she asked. "Shouldn't we back him up?"

"One moment, ma'am." Chief activated his comm. "Thirteen, heading."

"Towards the pyre," he replied. "No sign the wet knows we're here."

"Ma'am, we have a choice right now," Chief told her. "The droids are heading towards the crash site. We can either let them go and learn that there may have been survivors, or we can slot - kill - them now and avoid giving ourselves away."

"Droids usually need a-a wet in charge, right?" Askara asked, trying to use their term for organics. Chief nodded.

"If the patrol finds the crash site, we could be in trouble," she whispered slowly. "If we take them out now, the Seperatists will have to send a new patrol out, right?"

"_Troch_," Chief replied. "Sorry, ma'am. It's _mando'a_ for 'certainly.'"

"I have a lot to learn, don't I?" she asked. Before he could answer, she said, "Let's take them down."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. Then, to Thirteen, "_Ner vod, kote._"

"_Hukaat'kama_," was the soft-spoken reply.

"_Darasuum_," Chief whispered, echoed by their brothers. Without a word, they spread out into an ambush formation. Askara stuck close to Chief, even though she wouldn't be much good in a ranged fight. As she watched them move into position, she found herself envying them not only their certainty and trust in each other, but the sense of belonging she could pick up from them through the Force. _I wish I had that with the other Jedi_, she thought.

"On your orders, ma'am," Chief whispered to her, startling her.

"M-My orders? But . . . I'm not . . ."

"Trust yourself, ma'am," he told her. "You have the Force."

Like Thirteen, she could sense that he had faith in her, and trusted her not to let them down. Nodding, she took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly. As she did, she cleared her mind and let her senses expand. She pinpointed where the squad was, where the Rodian commanding the droid platoon was at, and could, somewhat, sense the droids themselves. Everyone was all set and simply waiting for her order. She waited, letting the Force guide her.

"_Tracyn_," she said softly, unconsciously speaking some _mando'a_ she'd picked up from Master Rof. Though surprised, Chief obeyed the order and passed it to his brothers over their helmet comms. Immediately, a single shot rang out as Thirteen used his DC-17m's sniper attachment to take out the Rodian. The droids paused for a moment as their limited processors switched to an automatic mode. During that one moment, the rest of Squad 1-17 opened fire. Within seconds, half of the droids were destroyed or crippled. Thirteen switched to his twin DC-17 pistols and opened fire on the rest of the droids - from in their midst. Taking fire from _five_ different directions now, the remaining droids lasted only a few moments longer than their comrades. Ejecting the spent power packs from his blasters, Thirteen hooked fresh ones in and holstered them. As he walked back to his brothers and commander, no one noticed the battle droid rising up behind him.

But Askara did. Getting a split-second warning through the Force, she telekinetically shoved Thirteen out of the way as she threw her now-activated lightsaber through the space he'd been occupying. The glowing orange blade sank into the battle droid's plastron, causing it to shiver and tremble before collapsing back to the ground. All eight clones looked at their commander, then to the droid, and back to her.

"_Vor'e, vod'ika_," Thirteen said.

"_Kandosii_," Saber said softly.

"With our _vod'ika_ here," Pillar said, clapping an arm across Askara's shoulders, "there's no back-up needed."

Chief nodded and held out a hand. Hesitantly grasping it, she returned the handshake he gave her.

"Welcome to the squad, Commander," he said.

**Author's Note:** And here's the next chapter. I hope y'all liked it. Let me know what you guys think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own Star Wars or anything associated with it. I do not own the Galactic Republic, the Seperatists, the Jedi, and so on. All I own are the characters of Special Tactics Squad 1-17, General Monka Monka of the Seperatists, Master Bel Rof, and Padawan Askara Jento. And if any of you want to use them, ask me first.

**Author's Note:** Special Tactics Squad 1-17 consists of Chief (CT-1543), Thirteen (CT-1313), Whacker (CT-5505), Sabre (CT-6674), Falcon (CT-6675), Hunter (CT-4509), Pillar (CT-2552), and Cryo (CT-0104) and, unofficially, Askara Jento. Sergeant Kal Skirata was the primary training sergeant for STS/1-17.

**Special Tactics Squad 1-17**

**"That's a Lot of Droids"**

_Forumulca, Tarsis System_

The squad didn't bother to police the area; the power packs for the droids' integral blasters weren't compatible with the squad's weapons. They did, however, check the area for any reinforcements. Finding none, as expected, they moved out.

"I'm surprised you didn't insist on burying the wet, ma'am," Cryo said.

"I . . . I didn't think . . . well, he would've tried to kill us, right?" Askara said, stammering. Pillar bumped her shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, _Aska'ika_," he said. "You made a good decision, I think. That blaster fire could have been picked up by orbiting ships, so getting out of there quick was a smart tactical move."

The padawan smiled. "Thanks," she said. "I just don't want to get any of you killed."

"And we all appreciate that, Commander," Hunter put in. After that, though, everyone fell silent, more for avoiding notice than for a lack of anything to say. Even though Askara was a Jedi, she was unaware of Thirteen taking a protective stance towards her.

"You seem fond of our little Commander, _ner vod_," Chief said to him over a private link.

"I am," he replied.

"Fine with me," Chief said nonchalantly.

"You want to know why."

"Of course. But it's up to you to share. We are brothers; you don't need to tell us."

"She reminds me of Sask."

"Your _vode_ from your original squad."

"Yes."

"What happened wasn't your fault."

Thirteen didn't say anything. He was paying attention to his surroundings, keeping a sharp eye out for anything that didn't seem to belong, but his thoughts were back to Kamino, and the training his clone company had undergone that had resulted in the deaths of twelve of his brothers.

"Hey," Askara said, breaking the silence and getting everyone's attention. "There's a shelter over there."

All they could see was a hill. But that didn't mean much.

"Thirteen, Saber, check it out," Chief ordered. The two troopers moved out as quickly as silence would permit. A few minutes passed.

"She's right, Chief," Saber reported back. "Getting heavy magnetic readings consistent with durasteel."

"Life-signs?"

"None," Thirteen reported. "Electronic emissions indicate zero signs of droids."

"Good work, ma'am," Chief told her. "How did you know it was there?"

"Well, the Force . . . said there was an emptiness there," she said shyly. "So I thought it might be a shelter?"

"Good call," Falcon told her.

"Do we get calls, too?" asked Whacker.

"Who would call you?"

"My mom?"

"You don't have a mom, _di'kut_."

"Sure I do. It was that control console outside of my tank."

"And what makes you think that's your mom?"

"It was always there."

"Are they always like this?" Askara asked Chief.

"Pretty much," he replied.

After a thorough inspection, it was discovered that not only was the shelter - for it was, indeed, an old storm shelter - but it was well-stocked with long-life preserved goods that were still a few decades away from expiring. Which meant that the clones had a feast, considering the quality of military rations. Cryo and Pillar opted to take the first watch duty outside of the shelter, though Askara did make sure they had some rations to eat first. While the other six clones - and their Jedi 'commander' sat down to eat their meal, Askara found herself next to Thirteen.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Commander?"

"I'm . . . well, I'm getting feelings of sorrow, loss, and regret from you," she told him. "Would . . . would you like to talk about it?"

"You . . . you want to know?" Thirteen was surprised, to say the least.

"If you want to talk about it," Askara replied. "I promise, no Force compulsion or anything."

"I lost twelve brothers, back on Kamino," Thirteen said softly. "It was during training."

"In training?" she asked, shocked.

"Live fire training," he explained. "It's all we ever did, when we were training. If it was combat training, live ammunition was used."

"How . . . how horrible," the Jedi girl said.

"One of my brothers and I were close," he went on, disassembling a DC-17 and cleaning it. "We called him Sask. Normal clones . . . we don't have the quality of equipment available to commandos and ARCs, so we're more dependent upon each other. Plus we're supposed to be more obedient."

"Supposed to be?"

"My company was . . . different. We were closer to the commando squads than standard troopers, personality-wise. Maybe because Kal Skirata, a _Mando_ warrior, was our main drill sergeant." He paused, recalling the details. "That day, my company was undergoing urban combat training. We were surprised, and my platoon was cut off from the rest of the company. An ambush by the instructors and combat droids killed three of my squadmates right in front of me. Two more died as we cleared a building to use as a temporary base to regroup. Another one died from a sniper as we exited the building. Another three were killed trying to push through a hardpoint to link up with the rest of the company." Askara didn't say anything; she just waited for him to continue. "Two more died when a thermal detonator landed between them," he went on. "Sask was the last to die. It would've been me, or I at least would have been the next casualty, except Sask placed himself in harm's way to get me out of the line of fire. Watching him take hit after hit, refusing to move himself out of the way . . . it got to me. As soon as I was in cover, he finally collapsed. He didn't give in to his injuries; he just kept himself going long enough to get me out of there." He finished cleaning his pistol and reassembled it in less than a minute. "I lost it; I picked up his deece-fifteen along with my own, and charged back out into the line of fire."

"And obviously you survived," Askara noted.

"Yes, ma'am," Thirteen replied. "I was hyped up on adrenaline and combat; I don't remember much of my actions then. When it was all over, my performance was evaluated. I had destroyed a company of combat droids - and five of the non-clone drill instructors. Head shots on them. My behavior, though, was outside of the norm for a 'normal' clone trooper. The Kaminoans wanted to 'correct my deviancy'. But Sergeant Skirata wouldn't let them. He said I could still be useful. And they listened to him. The Kaminoans were the one thing all of us clones feared, and Sergeant Skirata made them listen to him. Then he made me _Mando_. He put me with a new company, and told me that one day I would be needed for more than what I was doing then. He asked me what my squad called me. I told him that it didn't matter now. That clone had died during the exercise. 'So what's your name now?' he asked me. I told him that it was Thirteen - since I was the thirteenth casualty of my platoon."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. Rather than move it away, he reached up and laid his hand on hers. "And . . . is that when you began collecting the armor tallies?" He nodded.

"I never forget those who have died," he said, reiterating his words from before. Looking at her, he added, "And you remind me of Sask."

"Wh-what?" she stammered.

"Ever since you began coming with _Bel'buir_ on our missions, I would see Sask in your actions, in your words." He looked away. "I don't want to fail a _vode_ again."

"You won't," she said with unnatural certainty.

"That is something that cannot be promised."

"It isn't a promise," she told him, "it is the Force."

Later, when Thirteen went on his watch with Hunter, Chief came over and sat down next to Askara.

"That was a good thing you did, Commander," he said.

"I . . . I was only doing the right thing," she said, a little embarrassed. "He . . . he was hurting, and I just wanted to help."

"You did, ma'am," he told her. "He has a different feel to him now."

"All I did, really, was listen."

"No, ma'am, you did more."

"What do you mean, Chief?"

"You cared."

Once night had fallen again, the squad moved out. Askara was getting better at moving as stealthily as the squad did, and her Force senses proved to be a valuable asset. Three times, they managed to avoid patrolling droids because she sensed either the organic commander, or local fauna fleeing their approach. They were still heading towards the Sep base that was their original objective. Askara, during one of the short breaks they took to replenish fluids, suggested that they bunker down for another day, so it would still be dark when they reached the base. Once again, she showed that she had an instinctive grasp of tactical situations - or the Force was talking to her. Whichever it was, the squad decided to help nurture and hone the skill.

When they reached the base, they took the approach slow and carefully. Darting from cover to cover, they reached a 'short' cliff overlooking the base. And when they looked down upon the base, they were greeted by a sight that made their task seem impossible. Thousands of droids stood by or marched in formation. Some were heading out on whatever patrol they were programmed to do, others were coming in.

No one said anything. Until Falcon deadpanned: "That's a lot of droids."

"Well, look at the bright side," Saber said.

"There's a bright side?"

"Isn't there always?"

"We only need one big bomb to drop from here," Askara said, stealing Saber's punchline.

"I was going to say that," he said.

"I said it first, though," she replied.

"But it was my joke."

"You're too slow."

"Says who?

"The punchline."

"So what's the plan now, Commander?" Chief asked.

"We could always walk in the front door," she suggested. "After all, wouldn't you expect a missing squad of special ops clones to do something sneaky like going in through the back or the side?"

"The front door _is_ the last place they'd expect us to come in," Whacker agreed. Then he gestured. "And look: some of those fancy spec ops droids."

"You know, they look just like you, Whacker," Hunter said.

"That means they look like you, too, _di'kut_," he replied.

"No, I'm better looking than you."

"Alright, can it, you two," Chief said. "Let's figure out just how we're going to walk in the front door."

**Author's Note:** And here is the next chapter of Special Tactics Squad 1-17. You find out why Thirteen has his name, and why he chooses to remember every clone who dies around him. Please review after reading this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own Star Wars or anything associated with it. I do not own the Galactic Republic, the Seperatists, the Jedi, and so on. All I own are the characters of Special Tactics Squad 1-17, General Monka Monka of the Seperatists, Master Bel Rof, and Padawan Askara Jento. And if any of you want to use them, ask me first.

**Author's Note:** Special Tactics Squad 1-17 consists of Chief (CT-1543), Thirteen (CT-1313), Whacker (CT-5505), Sabre (CT-6674), Falcon (CT-6675), Hunter (CT-4509), Pillar (CT-2552), and Cryo (CT-0104) and, unofficially, Askara Jento. Sergeant Kal Skirata was the primary training sergeant for STS/1-17.

**Special Tactics Squad 1-17**

**"Is There A Plan B?"**

_Seperatist Base,_

_Formulca, Tarsis System_

They back away from the cliff edge, and scouted around for some cover. Finding some in an abandoned cave a couple of kilometers away from the cliff. Whatever local creature had lived in her was long since gone; Askara had to use her lightsaber to cut away the heavy growth from the entrance, and then widen that entrace. It would have been obvious to even a droid that someone had taken up residence, but then Askara demonstrated her growing awareness of special operations: she carefully cut up more branches and vines, then used the Force to bring them over to the entrance.

"Good idea, Commander," Chief said, nodding in approval. "You learn fast."

"I have to," she replied quietly. "My master's dead, and I'm not about to get any of you killed. Learn or die." Tactfully, none of the squad said anything about how that was standard for clone training.

"_Bel'buir_ was a rare man," Thirteen said, just as quietly. Then he pulled out one of his pistols and proceeded to clear the cave, with help from Pillar. Then Pillar came out and motioned the others to come in. Askara made sure she was the last one in, so she could use the Force to arrange the vines, branches, and other assorted vegetation over the cave entrance in as natural a way as possible. Once that was done, she turned around to find that all but one of squad - Sabre - had removed their helmets. At her look, Chief thought she was curious about Sabre and said, "It's to monitor for Republic comms."

"I wish I could help out with that," Askara said, a little sad.

"Don't worry about it, ma'am," Falcon told her, smiling. "You're our 'wets-radar;' monitoring comms is the least we can do."

"I know you're just trying to cheer me up," she said, smiling at him gratefully. "But I can't help feeling a little useless."

"Can't really understand that, ma'am," Pillar put in. "You got us going after the crash, you helped out with the ambush on the tinnies, and you found that shelter we were in last night. How is that useless?"

"I can't sense droids," she replied, "and I'm not much good at long-range."

"Here," Thirteen said, holding out his DC-17m. "I only use the sniper and grenade attachments, in addition to the normal blaster setting. Sorry you can't practice with it; we only have a limited number of power packs."

The young padawan carefully took the weapon and examined it. "Then I guess I'll have to get it right the first time," she said.

A few hours later, Askara was working on breaking down, cleaning and rebuilding the DC-17m, with Thirteen showing her how. Pillar and Whacker were sitting near the cave's entrance, _buy'cese_ on, monitoring the outside. Chief, Cryo, Sabre, Falcon, and Hunter were resting in some fashion: either sleeping, 'kicking back,' or just doing something they found relaxing. The Jedi-in-training found that she had a knack for the kit, which surprised her considering how most Jedi felt about blaster weapons. Thirteen was also teaching her _Mando'a_, the language of the Mandalorians that had trained a large number of the clones. But it wasn't just the language he was teaching her; it was the culture itself, and what it meant to be _Mando_.

Hunter, who had been running a test his helmet's electronics, looked over at the two. "Let me know if I'm out of line, Commander," he said, "but you seem unusually interested in Mandalorians. And it's got to be for some reason more than that we're your squad and it's how we were raised."

"Well, you're right, Hunter," she replied, looking up from the blaster rifle to meet his eyes. "Like you, I never had a choice about what I was to be; my path was chosen for me. Unlike you, though, I never had anyone who looked after me - until Master Bel Rof took me as his padawan." She smiled sadly. "He gave me my first look at the universe beyond the Temple."

"So he was like Sergeant Kal?"

"Not . . . exactly," she told him. "From what I've learned about him from you guys, I think your sergeant and my master would've gotten along pretty well; Master Rof had a very low tolerance for the politicking that is now typical of the Jedi and especially the Council. He didn't like Masters Kenobi or Windu very much."

"Neither did Sergeant Kal," Thirteen spoke up.

"Master Rof always spoke highly of Mandalorians," Askara said. "He always felt ashamed at the way the Jedi treated them, both those in the past and those today."

"He always told us that the Mandalorians could teach the Jedi a lot about pragmatism and common sense - if the _jetii_ would come down from their high and self-righteous perches," Falcon put in.

"'The Jedi of today are too concerned with doing the _light_ thing rather than the _right_ thing'," she said, making certain to let the clones know she was quoting. Thirteen chuckled, drawing _everyone's_ attention to him.

"It's true," he said, "which is also what makes it amusing."

"I don't think anyone's heard you laugh before, _ner vod_," Chief said, his eyes still closed.

"To get back to your question, Hunter," Askara said, "I'm ashamed of being a _jetii_. Not just because of how the Order's changed over the past few decades and centuries, but also because of how they're treating clones like you. Ever since the _jetii_ learned about the clone army, only a _ori_ small amount questioned the 'sudden' appearance of what is now called the Grand Army of the Republic. Everyone else, including the 'vaunted' Obi-Wan Kenobi and the 'wise' Master Yoda, simply accepted it. Not one of them knows you as individuals, as _men_. Some of padawans I know think of you as 'wet droids,' that since you were made for figthing and warfare you don't know that there's a whole universe being denied you."

"That's typical of mongrels, though," Hunter said. "They like to ignore things that may make their view of the universe uncomfortable."

"I'm a mongrel," she said, but every all eight troopers shook their heads.

"You may not be a clone," Chief said, opening his eyes and looking at the young padawan, "but you're our _vod'ika_."

"And if Order Sixty-Six were ever given?" she asked softly. "I studied the contigency orders on the trip to the Tarsis System. Would you follow that order if it was given."

"Were we to be around a Jedi if that order was ever given, then yes," Cryo said, putting a little emphasis on 'Jedi.'

Askara had fallen asleep an hour before - after a strong 'suggestion' from Chief. She kept the DC-17m near her; a fact which set all of the clones at ease.

"Certainly a strange Jedi," Falcon noted.

"What's normal for a Jedi?" Sabre retorted.

"What's normal, period?" Cryo put in.

"Should we be worried about the commander?" Hunter mused.

"What do you mean?" Falcon asked.

"Well, she really seems to be diving in to the Mandalorian thing," he said.

"That isn't a problem, though."

"I don't think I've heard of a Force-using Mandalorian."

"They wouldn't put a notice on the Holonet if they were, _di'kut_," Falcon said. "Sergeant Kal always said that when you became _Mando_, you started over. If the commander wants to be _Mando_, why should we stop her?"

"She's worried about Order Sixty-Six," Cryo reminded them. "But I don't think her interest in Mandalorian has anything to do with that. It seems to me that she just wants something to belong to."

"But she's part of the Jedi Order," Sabre said.

"_Part_ of it," Cryo said, "but she doesn't _belong_ to it. She did say that _Bel'buir_ was the only one who was close to her. And he died. We've known other Jedi. Most of them are like Kenobi; is it any wonder she doesn't want to stay with that?"

"And she's only a kid," Falcon added. "Think about that, too."

It was the middle of Formulca's night when STS 1-17 made it back to the cliff overlooking the Seperatist base. They were there for one last recon before making any definitive plans for infiltrating the base. Unfortunately for them, the Seperatists had made some changes.

"_Osik_," Chief said, examining the increased defenses through the macros built into his helmet.

"Armored Assault Tanks," Pillar said neutrally. "SBDs, spider droids . . . . and I think there's a Hellfire droid near the command bunker, too."

"That's not good," Askara deadpanned.

"Do I _ever_ get to tell the punchline?" Falcon quipped.

"If you don't have to be told it, sure," the commander replied. "There's some more wets, too. A couple of them are unusually disciplined."

"Force thing?" Whacker asked.

"Force thing," she confirmed.

"I just have one question, then," Falcon said.

"What's that?"

"Is there a Plan B?"

**Author's Note:** And that's the end of this update. So sorry for the long delay; I meant to have it up about three days ago, but until yesterday my flash drive was missing and I hadn't any back-ups made at the time. That situation has, thankfully, been corrected. Once again, I'm sorry y'all had to wait so long for this update.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own Star Wars or anything associated with it. I do not own the Galactic Republic, the Seperatists, the Jedi, and so on. All I own are the characters of Special Tactics Squad 1-17, General Monka Monka of the Seperatists, Master Bel Rof, and Padawan Askara Jento. And if any of you want to use them, ask me first.

**Author's Note:** Special Tactics Squad 1-17 consists of Chief (CT-1543), Thirteen (CT-1313), Whacker (CT-5505), Sabre (CT-6674), Falcon (CT-6675), Hunter (CT-4509), Pillar (CT-2552), and Cryo (CT-0104) and, unofficially, Askara Jento. Sergeant Kal Skirata was the primary training sergeant for STS/1-17.

**Special Tactics Squad 1-17**

**Uncertainties and Truths**

_Formulca, Tarsis System_

"There's always a Plan B," Asakara said.

"So what is it?" Falcon asked.

"No idea," she replied. She bit her lower lip as she looked through her macrobinoculars, studying the base below them. There was no way eight special operations clones and a single Jedi apprentice could take on _that_ many droids. Not at once, and 'at once' was usually how droids worked. At least the battle droids and SBDs, although she'd heard of destroyer droids operating in pairs and trios. "I mean, I don't see a way we can take that base, or even shut it down."

"There's always a way to accomplish a goal," Cryo said. "That's Master Rof used to say."

"He'd also add that if you couldn't see any options, then you were looking at the problem the wrong way," Pillar added. _Looking at the problem the wrong way . . ._ she thought, looking back and forth across the base. She blinked, looked back and forth again, then blinked once more. She felt a strange nudge through the Force, as though the mystical energy that bound the galaxy was tapping her shoulder, trying to get her to look or see something in a specific way. Master Bel Rof often (meaning always) told her to trust her instincts, that they were never wrong for her. _"You have warrior blood running in your veins," he'd tell her sometimes. "Your instincts, especially when combined with your impressive Force skill, are rarely wrong from what I've seen. You may not be pivotal to the galaxy at this point of time, but you will be responsible for shaping someone's future."_ She felt a tug on her heart; Bel Rof had been a strong father figure in her life. He had told her he'd known her real father, but he wouldn't say much more than that. _"Who was he?" she'd ask. "Why did he leave me here? Didn't he love me?" Her master would smile sadly at her and say, "He loved you very much, child. But he couldn't give you what you needed."_ She had often entertained fantasies about finding her father and meeting him, but she'd never finish those fantasies because she was afraid that her expectations wouldn't meet reality - if it ever occurred. Shaking her head, Askara brought herself out of her daydreaming and sat up - though she scooted back from the edge so she'd not be seen.

"Are you alright, Commander?" asked Chief.

"Just remembering some times with my master," she replied, a little sadness creeping into her voice.

"He was a good man," he told her. "I don't think I'd have been able to follow through with Order Sixty-Six if it was ever given."

"You mean that contingency thing about a Jedi rebellion?" she asked. He nodded. "I don't think that would ever happen," she said, "but you can never tell with the future."

"Wise words," Falcon stated. "Are you sure you're just a commander and not a general in disguise?" She chuckled, which had been the clone's intent.

"I'm sure," she said. "_A_ _baatir ret'lini_." They all blinked; she'd just said, in Mandalorian, that they should worry about her just in case. The words had no bearing on what had just been spoken, which meant she had guessed they were trying to take her mind of her grief for her dead master. They all understood her grief at her loss, none more so than Thirteen.

And he knew that, with her, he'd never carry out Order 66 if it was ever given; she was his _vod_, his sister.

Back at their 'base,' a three on, six off watch was set; Thirteen, Chief, and Askara were the first watch, Whacker, Sabre, and Falcon were the second, and Hunter, Pillar, and Cryo were the third. The team's Jedi commander had actually volunteered to take the first watch by herself, but Chief gently insisted that three would have a better chance than one - even if that one had the Force on her side.

"It never hurts to have back-up, Commander," he'd said. So she shared the first watch with Thirteen and Chief while the second watch slept and the third watch checked over both teams' weapons and gear and ate some of their rations. The two spec ops troopers were walking a perimeter around what was exposed of the shelter, while she sat up top and kept a 'Force scan' of the area going. Though it would be droids that might attack, an organic would be the one giving the commands, which would be a hostile intent - and _that_ was something she could detect. She sighed, and felt feelings of sorrow and grief well up within her. Ever since learning of her master's death - and feeling it through the Force - Askara hadn't had time to grieve for him. She wanted to, but she knew that now wasn't a good time. Master Bel Rof would've understood, she knew; though a compassionate and sympathetic person, he was also pragmatic - which would more often than not put him at odds with the Jedi Council. She would mourn her master's death later; right now, all eight troopers of Special Tactics Squad 1-17 were depending on her to be a leader, even if they didn't need to rely on her at all.

They stayed on watch for four hours, with the two clones monitoring the area through the advanced sensors incorporated into their helmets and Askara using the Force and her senses; she'd listen to the sounds of the night, learning what seemed natural and what was a startled or alarmed cry. Everything was normal for those four hours. Whacker, Sabre, and Falcon were already coming out of the shelter when Askara, Thirteen, and Chief went to go in.

"Everything's peaceful out here right now," Chief told them. "See that it stays that way."

"I'll let the Seps know that they're not to ambush us until you say so," Falcon deadpanned. Hunter, Pillar, and Cryo were finishing putting their armor back on when they walked in. Exchanging nods, the three clones took places near the entranceway and settled down into comfortable positions. Chief and Thirteen took off their armor, leaving them in the bodysuits they wore underneath. Askara just shrugged out of her cloak and folded it up to make a padded surface to sit upon. Then she settled herself into a lotus position.

"Commander?" Chief inquired, curious.

"I'm meditating, Chief," she replied. "I'm going to commune with the Force, and use it to refresh myself - and to seek guidance."

"What do you mean, ma'am?"

"Well, sometimes, when a Jedi meditates and immerses herself in the Force, visions come. Glimpses into the past or future. It's pretty uncommon, though; what I'm looking for are subtle hints about what to do."

"That doesn't sound too certain."

"It often isn't," she agreed. "Such 'nudges' are more often than not puzzles we Jedi have to figure out. Far more common are the short-term future readings that many Jedi call a 'danger warning.' It's a Force-sent feeling of impending danger that prepares us for said danger."

"Like when you took out that droid after the ambush," Thirteen said, looking over at her.

"Yeah," she said. "The Force sent me a warning about imminent danger to you, and I just reacted. Like when your instincts warn you about something and you fire a blaster to take out a clanker. It's something that is practiced until it becomes habit, then practiced more until it becomes instinct."

"So you're really no different from us," Chief said, a bit of wonder in his voice.

"Where it counts, no, I'm not. It doesn't matter that I was born and you were hatched; that's just how we were born. Clones and Jedi are both raised, it seems, in institutionalized environments to be who we're told to be. But when it comes time to do what we were raised to do, we began changing because of the experiences we gain doing just that."

"Those are wise words, ma'am."

"I've listened to Master Rof a lot," she replied, sad. "He was always following his heart, doing the right thing even if it went against what he was told to do. Even when he became a general and began leading troops into battle, that's what he did."

"He'd follow orders," Thirteen put in, "but in his way. It didn't make him popular with command, but it got him our trust."

"We'll let you meditate now, ma'am," Chief added, as he and Thirteen began cleaning their armor and weapons. Askara nodded, smiling at the two men, then closed her eyes and began slowing her breathing, centering herself . . .

_She was standing on a wind-swept hill. The scent of spring wafted to her on the breeze. She remembered this place, though she couldn't remember being here. It was familiar to her, though her mind told her she'd never been here. A feeling of comfort and happiness permeated the area, making her feel safe and secure. She heard someone calling, though the words were indistinct and the voice muffled. Turning, she saw a man and a woman sitting on a blanket spread out over the grass. Both of them looked very familiar to her, though once again she couldn't bring to mind how. The man motioned for her to come over, the smile on his face warm and inviting. The woman began pulling food out of a storage container on the blanket, and she walked over. But as she did, the scene began to change. The woman, the blanket, and the food began vanishing, fading away into nothingness - as though they had merely been holograms or ghosts. The man was still there, still smiling warmly, but he was standing now. The loose pants, white shirt, and black boots and jacket began fading, morphing, into something different. Something that was both sinister and secure, threatening and safe. He was now clad in blue-tinted white armor that had black accents and green highlights, a helmet with a T-shaped visor held under one arm. She said, "Mandalorian," but no sound emerged from her mouth. Dropping down to one knee to bring him to her eye-level, he held out his hand, palm up. In it was a single silver medallion. On the side she could see was the symbol of the Mandalorian people. He closed his hand, then opened it again. Now the medallion was showing the symbol of the Jedi. Then it hit her; both sides of the medallion had her name . . ._

Askara snapped awake, breathing hard, her eyes wide but unseeing. _That was a vision_, she realized. _But what was it of? The past? The future? Was it about me, or someone else?_ She blinked her eyes several times, trying to clear her vision. _Just who am I?_

"Are you alright, Commander?" Chief asked, his concern evident in his voice.

"Um, yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she said, shaking her head and clearing the last bits of the vision fog from her mind.

"You've been out for nearly seven hours, ma'am," he told her. "We were getting worried."

"_Seven_ hours?" she repeated, stunned; it had felt only like moments.

"Yes, ma'am," Whacker said. "We wanted to wake you up, do something, but we didn't think it would be a good idea to interrupt a commander when she's meditating."

"We've got trouble," she said. _That_ snapped the six clones to attention. Chief reached up to his helmet and alerted his brothers that were out on sentry. Whacker, Sabre, and Falcon began strapping their armor back on.

"What did you see, Commander?" Thirteen asked amidst the clack of armor.

"It wasn't what I saw, Thirteen, but what I felt," she explained. "I had a vision, but it didn't pertain to our situation. Right before I snapped out of the vision, I felt a great sense of imminent danger. And there's something strange about the Force right now, but _that's_ situated out in space."

"Cryo reports that the seismic sensors on the left flank are picking up readings indicating a large number of droids are approaching," Chief said.

"There isn't time to evac the area," Askara said with that strange absolute certainty Jedi sometimes had.

"Confirmed, Commander," Chief said. "Hunter reported that he'd seen Vulture droids lift off from the direction of the base. Chances are they're doing a recon of the area. Something must have given us away."

"They probably managed to piece together enough wreckage from the crash to determine that there were some clones and a Jedi unaccounted for," she replied. "In which case, they must also have found the ambush site."

"My guess is that they also extrapolated data for how fast we can all move, and began initiating scans along all avenues of travel from those two points," Thirteen said.

"What's our course of action, Commander?" Sabre asked.

"We can't hold out against a determined assault for long," she said. "Even if we withdrew to here, we'd be trapped because there's only a single access point. And while I think that would limit the amount of fire at us, it would also limit how much fire we can put out."

"Holding a defensive position against a large number of droids would only be tactically advisable if we had reinforcements on the way. At least in the current situation," Chief said. "There are troops on-world right now, but with the heavy anti-air equipment in this area, getting them close enough to assist us would cause more casualties than they can afford."

"So we're on our own," she stated.

"I'm afraid so, Commander."

"I don't intend to surrender, but that may be a course of action we'll have to take soon."

"We can't surrender, ma'am," Falcon said.

"We can't die, either," she responded. "Dead, we can't help anyone. Captured, we might have a chance to take out that base from the inside. To operate as many droids as it does, there _has_ to be a good-sized central power unit. If we can overload that, it'll take out the base."

"The commander has a point," Chief said. Thirteen nodded. "We won't surrender right away; that wouldn't be viable. We'll initiate escape and evasion techniques, and draw out the chase for as long as we can. We should cache some weapons somewhere close to the base."

"I've got an idea," Whacker said. Askara gestured for him to go on. "Well, what if a few of us - say two or three - deliberately take hits in such a way that it minimizes damage to us, but allows us to fake fatal hits and fall into one of the grass-covered ravines in the area? That way, those on the inside will have a chance to accomplish the mission because those on the outside will be able to stage diversionary attacks."

"What's your opinion, Commander?" Chief asked.

"Well, I think that sounds like a good idea," she said hesitantly, still uncertain of herself as a leader but unwilling to let the squad down. "It . . . it seems like the best option to choose." She closed her eyes and breathed deep, reaching for certainty in the Force. "In fact, it's our only option to guarantee success for the mission. Chief? Move us out."

According to their new plan, the squad moved out in the direction of the bluff where they had spied on the Separatist base. They wouldn't head directly towards it, since that would defeat the plan, but they went in the general direction of it. It was near mid-day, so their stealth-colored and -coated armor wasn't as effective. Especially since there wasn't much cover in the area. The droids got within firing range a few hours after the squad had left the shelter, and - as expected - began firing immediately. Askara reached out with the Force and yanked a low-flying Vulture droid down. It recovered before hitting the ground easily, but it was now close enough for a shot from Whacker's blaster to penetrate its port stablizer array, sending it into a corkscrew spin into a mass of battle droids. The resulting explosion scattered shrapnel everywhere, cutting down several more droids. Whacker was the first to 'fall' as a battle droid fired at him. He took the hit on his left shoulder plate, though at angle that seemed as though it hit his chest, and flung himeself back and down, rolling into a nearby ravine that was deeper than it looked. Hunter was next as he just barely ducked a blaster bolt that would've punched through his helmet, flipping himself into a cleft in a hill that was cleverly (and naturally) covered with such long grasses that it appeared as part of the hill. Pillar was the last to 'go' as he actually took a blaster bolt to his leg. He went with the motion of his collapsing limb, and rolled himself off a short cliff that ended with a plunge into a somewhat deep river. Finally, though, the droids had cornered the five 'remaining' clones and Askara.

A few hours later, the captives were led into the Separatist base, where a gossam in a Separatist military uniform with general rank insignia and Commerce Guild markings stood waiting for them. When the captives were brought before him, he chuckled and said, "Such long faces, my friends. Be joyful; you aren't dead." He chuckled again, and would've continued chuckling, but Askara chose that moment to yawn. The gossam snapped his gaze to her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "But your droids _did_ chase all over the place, and your voice just sounded _so_ peaceful." The gossam snorted.

"Such arrogance can only mean you're a Jedi," he said.

"Guilty as charged," she said cheerfully.

"That braid of yours means you are merely a padawan - and not a _real_ Jedi. I am General Monka Monka of the Separatists-" He would likely have gone on, but Cryo chose that moment to snort.

"Sorry, sir," he said when the Separatist general looked at him. "It's just . . . with a name like that, I was momentarily overcome by terror."

"If you weren't beneath my contempt, _clone_, I'd have you shot for that," Monka Monka replied.

"One of your droids beat you to that, sir," Cryo replied, angling himself to show the blaster burn on his right arm.

"Commander," the general said to the yellow-marked droid standing nearby.

"Yes, sir."

"Take them to the brig," he ordered. Then he held up his hand. "No, wait. I have a better idea." He looked at Askara, an evil gleam in his eye. "Mandalorian! Come here!"

From the direction of the base's entrance strode an armored figure. As he got closer to the group, Askara felt a jolt of pure shock run right through her. The Mandalorian's armor was the same as the one in her vision!

"I've told you before, half-wit, my name is Jakran Boken," he replied once he'd reached the group, his voice distorted by his helmet.

"Do not talk to me in that manner, mercenary!" Monka Monka snapped. "Remember who is paying you!"

"Count Dooku, according to my contract," Jakran replied. "Now what it is you want?"

"Take these prisoners to the brig!" the gossam demanded. "The girl-"

"Is obviously a Jedi," he interrupted. "She's the only one who isn't in armor, and doesn't share a similar face." He hefted his blaster carbine. "Alright, everyone, time for a tour of the Separatist base here on Formulca. First stop on this tour will be the brig. Accomadations shall be the brig. Now move out."

As Chief and the others began walking, with slightly feigned reluctance, Askara fell behind to walk at the back of the group. As she passed by the Mandalorian, his arm fell back to his side, lightly brushing her. But in that momentary touch, she felt a surge of familiarity. Reaching out with the Force, she found his mind strong and focused - and familiar. Once they were out of hearing shot of General Monka Monka, and after the blast doors had closed, the Mandalorian leaned down slightly and whispered, so that only she could here, "Whatever your plan is, trust your instincts." She stared at him in shock, but it was as though he hadn't spoken at all.

_Who are you?_ she asked silently. _And just why do I feel safe around you?_

**End Note:** I apologize for the long hiatus with this chapter; I hit a writing block with it, and a lot of other stuff happened. When I found my groove, I focused on other stories first, but I'm happy to say I'm finally getting back to this. My original idea for it has, understandably, changed, so if any of you had any expectations about it you'd better get rid of them. Now, if you've read this far, you should leave a review.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own Star Wars or anything associated with it. I do not own the Galactic Republic, the Seperatists, the Jedi, and so on. All I own are the characters of Special Tactics Squad 1-17, General Monka Monka of the Seperatists, Master Bel Rof, and Padawan Askara Jento. And if any of you want to use them, ask me first.

**Author's Note:** Special Tactics Squad 1-17 consists of Chief (CT-1543), Thirteen (CT-1313), Whacker (CT-5505), Sabre (CT-6674), Falcon (CT-6675), Hunter (CT-4509), Pillar (CT-2552), and Cryo (CT-0104) and, unofficially, Askara Jento. Sergeant Kal Skirata was the primary training sergeant for STS/1-17.

**Special Tactics Squad 1-17**

**Heritage**

_Formulca, Tarsis System_

Askara could sense the Mandalorian behind her, but she couldn't get a read on his mind. At least, not as far as figuring out why she felt she could trust him. He kept his weapon out, but it wasn't held at readiness; rather, it was held in a relaxed manner. Some battle droids had joined them at one point, regular battle droids and not the armored super battle droids. The groups weapons had been taken, though her and her master's lightsabers were hanging on the Mandalorian's belt - next to one that was already there. From what she knew about Mandalorians, which was only what was available in the archives for a padawan to access and the words she was picking up, displaying it like that meant it was a trophy of sorts. _He's probably already killed at least one Jedi_, she thought, _though I don't recognize that 'saber style. I wonder whose it is?_ When they reached the brig, the Mandalorian ordered the droids to put three of the clones in one cell, and the other two in a second cell. But when it came time for her to be locked up, he held up a hand.

"I want to interrogate the Jedi personally," he told the yellow-marked droid commander.

"The general ordered all of the prisoners to be placed in the brig," the droid replied in that nasally mechanical voice all of the battle droids seemed to have.

"The Jedi _will_ be placed in a cell. After I've gotten some information," he said. "I don't want her in a cell near the clones. Security reasons."

"Roger, roger. Shall I prepare an interrogation chamber for you?"

"No need. It won't take too long, so I'll just grab one of the offices nearby. Stay here and guard these troopers."

"Roger, roger."

Nudging her in the back, Jakran Boken guided her out of this cell block and down the hall. Slipping his blaster carbine into a holster mounted on his jet pack, he opened a door to an actual office and (gently) pushed her inside. He followed her in and pointed to a chair as he said, "Sit." Then he shut the door and pulled something out of a compartment on his belt. Activating it caused Askara to wince as a high-pitched, nearly hard to hear static-filled whistle pierced the air. Adjusting a dial on it, he set it down near the door and walked over to sit on the desk, which groaned a little from the weight of the armored warrior. He seemed to stare at her for a moment, though it was a little hard to tell with that expressionless helmet and its T-shaped visor. When he moved, the motion startled her and she jumped a little. She turned red with embarrassment, though, when it only turned out to be him crossing his arms.

"As I told the 'good' general has said," he began, "I'm Jakran Boken." Askara remained silent, and he nodded. "You've got a strong will, young one, and a spirit to match." She couldn't tell why, but it seemed as though he smiled right then. "You remind me of your mother."

"My mother?" she blurted out. He chuckled a little, and she felt a flash of anger go through her. It must have shown on her face, too, for Jakran said, "Yes, young one. You look so like her at that age, too. At least, according to the holos she showed me; I didn't meet her until she was already a Jedi Knight."

"My mother was a Jedi?" she asked, shock making her speak again.

"One of the truest ones," he said, and she _definitely_ picked up a hint of sadness. "But look at you. You've changed so much in ten years."

"What _haran_ are you talking about?" she asked.

"You've picked up some language, I see," he replied with a chuckle. Then he reached up, unsealed his helmet, and removed it. He set it on the desk, though Askara was unaware of it. Her gaze had become locked on his face, and her mouth had dropped open in shock. His hair, though a dark brown color instead of golden-brown, was just as spikey as hers. His eyes were the same emerald-green as her left eye, and he had the same faintly amused look she knew she sometimes had. All of the memories that had faded during her years at the Temple, during her life as a youngling and then a padawan, came tumbling back to her in that one moment. And as the flood of memories washed through her mind, only one word was able to come out.

"_Buir_," she said in a quiet, trembling voice.

_"Higher, _buir_, higher!" Askara cried out in delight as her father tossed her into the air and caught her again._

_"You two be careful now," Surra Jento called out as she spread the blanket out on the grassy hill. "If either of you gets hurt, I'll put you _both_ in time-out."_

_"You heard your mother, _As'ika_," Jak said, laughing as he caught his daughter again and setting her down._

_"_Jatne'buir_," she said, hugging his leg as fiercely as her two-year-old arms would allow her._

_"I can't believe how articulate she is already," he said to his wife as he walked over to her, Askara still clutching his leg and giggling madly._

_"Why is that so hard to believe, _ner kar'tayl_?" she asked. "Look at who she comes from."_

_"You think I'm smart?"_

_"You were smart enough to marry me when you had the chance."_

_"That's true," he agreed. Peeling their daughter off his leg, he sat down while she went off, running around as fast as her legs could carry her. She didn't stray far, but she still ran all over the place._

_"What are you thinking about, Jak?" Surra asked of the thoughtful expression on his face. She'd begun pulling out the food they'd packed for the picnic and was arranging it on the blanket._

_"I'm just wondering if you regret leaving the Jedi Order," he said, looking over at her._

_"Not for one nanosecond, Standard or otherwise," she replied. "Meeting you was the second best thing to ever happen to me."_

_"I don't mind being second best," he said, his gaze going over to check on Askara, who was chasing one of the harmless winged insects common to this area of Formulca. "And I don't regret curtailing my mercenary career."_

_"I never realized just how important family was to you Mandalorians until I met you."_

_"I imagine the Archive doesn't have too much flattering information on us_ Mando_," he said._

_"You mean there _is_ flattering information about you _Mando_?" she asked in mock shock. He laughed._

_"I guess I strode right into that barrage!" He waved their daughter over, though it wasn't really necessary; once she'd seen the food she'd hurried over as fast as her little legs could get her there. And for a while, conversation was tabled as they ate their lunch. Once she'd had her fill, Askara asked to go play some more and Surra gave her permission; she sensed something was up with her husband, and knew that he wouldn't want to talk about it around their daughter until they'd talked about it first._

_"What's bothering you, _ner kar'tayl_?" she asked._

_"I've got a contract," he said. "It's in the Outer Rim this time."_

_"How far away?"_

_"Right on the border between the Mid and Outer Rims. That's not too far away, but I'll be gone for about a couple of weeks, give or take."_

_"You don't like this contract, do you?"_

_"It's not the contract that bothers me. It's an easy job - for a _Mando_, that is. A simple enforcement contract. The contractor is legit; I did some rather in-depth background checking."_

_"So what has you so uneasy?"_

_"I don't know," he admitted, "and that's what makes it worse."_

_"You sure you aren't Force-sensitive?" she teased, drawing a chuckle from him._

_"Who knows?" he said. "But I don't doubt its existence." He sighed. "I want you to be really careful while I'm gone. Make sure you go out armed when you go out."_

_"And always have two escape routes at the least," she added. "I know the plans by now, Jak."_

_"Never hurts to go over it again."_

_"_You_ just be careful," she warned him. "I don't want to have to kick your _shebs_ for getting hurt again."_

_"It comes with the territory."_

_"And bring something back for Askara," Surra said. "I know her birthday isn't for a while, but she always enjoys the gifts you bring."_

_"Seeing the delight in her face is a treasure," he agreed. "You still planning on training her in her Force skills if she should develop them?"_

_"Only if you're still planning on training her in her _Mando_ heritage once she's old enough," she returned._

_"I've already been talking with someone about making her a set of _beskar'gam_," Jak confirmed. "I've also been talking with them about making you a set, as well."_

_"I suppose it's about time."_

_"Whenever you're ready for it."_

_"I married you the _Mando_ way; it's only proper that I follow through with the whole thing."_

_"You'd cut quite a figure in armor," he said, earning a punch to the arm. "And you're very handy with a blaster."_

_"Promise me one thing, Jak," she said, her voice serious. Something he picked up on very easily._

_"You have but to ask," he told her._

_"I want you to take Askara to the Temple if anything should happen to me," she went on. "If she should have skill in the Force, I want you to take her to the Temple should I die."_

_"I give you my word, on _ner gai bal manda_, that I shall do as you ask."_

"Why did you leave me, _buir_?" Askara asked softly, tears gathering to her eyes at the upswelling of emotion within her.

"I didn't want to, _ad'ika_," he replied, just as softly. "I wanted to keep you with me; you were all I had left of the life I'd built with your mother."

"Then why?"

"I promised your mother that, if she died, I'd take you to the Jedi Temple if you had the Force." Though strong, she could hear the fragility in his voice. "And you did. You saved our lives from an ambush that should've been over before I'd known it was happening."

"I remember. I was four, and you were showing me how the controls worked."

"You were very smart, even at that age," he agreed. "You wanted the shields on, and turned them on at _just_ the right time, with the kind of prescience that I'd only seen in Jedi." He looked Askara in the eyes. "Your mother had explained to me the potential dangers facing a Force-sensitive without training of some sort. She wouldn't have trained you as a _jetii_, but taught you how to use your gifts."

"So you gave me to the Temple to protect me?" she asked a little skeptically.

"I had given your mother my word," he replied. "I wanted to come by every month, every week, to check on you, to see how you were doing. I knew that Bel Rof would have met with me and told me everything I wanted to know."

"So why didn't you? Didn't you love me?"

"I suppose I had that coming," Jak said. "Yes, I did love you, and I still do. I didn't because it would have gotten your master in more trouble with the Council than he already was. But even that wouldn't have stopped me, as much as I respected him. I didn't want to interfere in your life. I didn't think I'd be able to face you, when you were old enough, once you learned everything."

"Bel Rof . . . my master . . . is dead," she said, looking down at her manacled hands and feeling tears come to her eyes. "He . . . he died when . . . when the Seps shot down the gunship."

"He was a good man, a real _jetii_," Jak said after he'd digested the news. "Not like those fools on the Council." He caught her eye. "I can understand if you hate me for abandoning you."

"I don't," she said. And it was true; she _didn't_ hate him. She understood why he'd done what he'd done, even if she thought that he hadn't needed to do it. "Besides the whole light side/dark side thing, you're my _buir_; I don't want to hate you."

Jak nodded, his relief evident in the Force and on his face.

"I should get you to a cell now," he said reluctantly.

"Can't you help us?" she asked, but he shook his head.

"I can't, _ad'ika_, and not because I don't want to," he told her. "I have a contract, and I can't break it without a good reason."

"And what _is_ that contract?"

"Count Dooku put out a general contract for mercenaries to work as 'security consultants' and 'on-site trouble-shooters.' Basically, when you get through all of the _osik_, I'm working to ensure the security of Separatist bases . . . or to kill the base commander if he, she, or it isn't working out."

"You mean you'd _murder_ them?" She was shocked.

"It isn't murder," he said. "They're soldiers, and I give them fair warning. So far, I haven't had to 'trouble-shoot' anyone." He put his helmet back on and walked over to the door. Askara had stood up as he'd walked by. He picked up his scrambler, but as he was about to shut it off, he looked over at her. "I would consider my contract null and void," he said, "if the forces of my employer were to open fire on me without obvious provocation." Then he shut the device off and returned it to his belt. He grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her out the door - but he wasn't rough about it. He guided her down the corridor back to the cell block and keyed open a cell. It was right by the door to the administrative section, and not too close to the clone troopers. As he removed her manacles and put her in the cell, she felt something heavy slip into one of the sleeves of her robe. She quickly wrapped her arms around her middle, so as to hide whatever it was - and also to give the impression that she was a little scared.

"That was only a 'friendly' talk, _jetii_," Jak said. "You'll get one more chance to tell me what you know, then it'll be the interrogation droids." He activated the energy bars and left.

"Are you alright, Commander?" Chief called out.

"I'm . . . I'm just fine," she said, opening her arms and letting her lightsaber fall into her hands. After what he'd said about not being able to help her, him slipping her her own lightsaber was a shock. Then she felt a sly smile work its way across her face as she recalled the last thing he'd told her before they'd left the office.

"In fact," she added after a moment of silence, "everything's about to get even better."

**End Note:** What a chapter. Did I catch anyone off-guard? So Askara Jento is the daughter of an ex-Jedi _and_ a Mandalorian. And not only that, but she's run into her father on the planet of her birth. Looks like the Force is at work here. Leave a review now, please.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own Star Wars or anything associated with it. I do not own the Galactic Republic, the Seperatists, the Jedi, and so on. All I own are the characters of Special Tactics Squad 1-17, General Monka Monka of the Seperatists, Master Bel Rof, and Padawan Askara Jento. And if any of you want to use them, ask me first.

**Author's Note:** Special Tactics Squad 1-17 consists of Chief (CT-1543), Thirteen (CT-1313), Whacker (CT-5505), Sabre (CT-6674), Falcon (CT-6675), Hunter (CT-4509), Pillar (CT-2552), and Cryo (CT-0104) and, unofficially, Askara Jento. Sergeant Kal Skirata was the primary training sergeant for STS/1-17.

**Special Tactics Squad 1-17**

**"**_**Copaani Geroy**_**?"**

_Formulca, Tarsis System_

Jakran Boken was alone in his quarters in the base, still in his _beskar'gam_ (armor); though his _buy'ce_ was sitting next to him on the cot he used as a bed. He was studying the lightsaber in his hands, letting the memories it evoked wander through his mind. It had been about eight or so years since he'd even thought about his wife's lightsaber, much less looked at it. He never forgot her; even if he hadn't said _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyi, ni partayli, gar darasuum_, the Mandalorian ritual for honoring and remembering those who have died and gone on the Manda, he'd never forget his beloved wife. Her lightsaber was the only thing he'd kept of hers, to remind him of her. And now, after ten years, he'd run into his daughter. The daughter he'd left in the care of one of the very few Jedi he'd trusted, to become learned in the ways of the Force as he'd promised his wife right before her death. Seeing Askara again after so long had brought back a flood of memories. _She looks so much like her mother_, he thought, melancholy with the memories. Looking over at his helmet, he saw the sigil he'd added to it after he and Surra had become married. He had done it out of respect and love for her, in spite of the fact that she'd renounced that part of her life: it was the sigil of the Jedi Order. He'd put it on the lower left side of his helmet, near where it hooked onto the neck seal. _I know I haven't been the best father for her; even if it was a promise to the one I loved, I _still_ abandoned her. She bears me no ill-will about it, and even seems to understand my reasons for doing so, but I still feel as though I let her down._ He sighed. _I can explain to her, perhaps, about the _Mando_ ritual for divorcing a parent, and tell her that I wouldn't blame her for doing so._ Taking the other lightsaber from his belt, he studied its intricate grip and style. _It is hard to believe you're dead, old friend_, he thought, addressing Bel Rof's spirit in his mind.

"_Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyi, ni partayli, gar darasuum_, Bel Rof," he whispered softly, adding the dead Jedi's name to his list.

Just as her father was thinking about her and her mother, so, too, was Askara thinking about him _and_ her mother. She didn't have as many memories as her father did, but the memories she _did_ have were no longer forgotten or dimly remembered. She remembered the last time she'd been with both of her parents; that memory stuck out so much because it was the last time of true happiness she'd had. She also remembered, dimly, feeling her mother's death through the Force when it happened. And she remembered, shortly before she used the Force to save her and her father's lives, asking her father where she'd been born. She shook her head, a smile of irony on her face. _The Force _has_ to be at work_, she thought, _for me and my _buir_ to find each other again after ten years on the planet where I'd been born - and my mother had died two years later._ She was actually surprised to find that, as she'd told her father, she _didn't_ hate him. She _had_ been a little hurt to know that he'd left her in the care of strangers, but she was finding that the joy of rediscovering a past she'd nearly forgotten about overwhelmed that hurt. She was surprised that he had helped her, even though he said he couldn't because of his word. And besides her lightsaber, he'd given her another a way for him to help her; if she could get the Separatists to attack him - without making them think he'd broken his contract - he'd be able to actually help them. _The Force isn't without a sense of irony_, she thought wryly. _I'm a Jedi that is also half Mandalorian - by blood, that is. And the Mandalorians don't really get along with the Jedi, though it is a _major_ understatement._

And, now, she was contemplating a thought that was rather shocking for her: possibly leaving the Jedi Order. Like Master Bel Rof, she didn't approve of the way most of her fellow Jedi treated the clone soldiers they led. A few saw them as the men they were; many, though, remained in ignorance, believing (or preferring to believe) the 'company line' that because they were created and raised to fight, that they knew no other life but war, that they were happy and content. She'd even heard that Barden Jusik, a high-ranked Jedi Knight that led part of the Special Operations Brigade to which the Special Tactics Command was officially attached, had left the Order in protest. Bel Rof had approved, even if he hadn't followed the younger Jedi's lead; he believed he had a responsibility to the mean he led to fight and possibly die with them. And he had.

Gripping her lightsaber firmly, she walked over to the wall of her cell that was in the direction that her troopers were in. Putting the hilt two centimeters from the wall, she activated the lightsaber and watched the orange blade plunge into the wall. Acting swiftly, she began cutting a circle into the wall. She didn't make the hole too large, but when she used the Force to grab the duracrete circle to prevent it from slamming into the floor of the next cell, she realized just how _heavy_ it was. Carefully setting it down to avoid making any kind of noise that would alert the droids, she stepped into the next cell and walked over to the wall opposite her to repeat the process. After a few more minutes - fewer than she'd hoped and more than she'd expected - Askara cut her way into the squad's cell.

"Welcome to our happy little abode, Commander," Falcon said. "We'd offer you some refreshments, but we're all out at the moment."

"We need to get your gear back," she said.

"Just one thing, Commander," Chief interrupted. "How'd you get your lightsaber back?"

"That Mandalorian?" she began.

"You stole it back from him?" Cryo said, impressed.

"Um, no. He gave it back to me." They all stared at her. "He did."

"Why would he do that?" Sabre asked. "He works for the Seps."

"He's my father," she replied. _That_ little announcement hit with the force of a thermal detonator.

"Makes sense to me," Falcon said. "So how do we get out of here?"

"Like this," Askara told them, raising her hand to focus the Force and using it to pull the switch that controlled the energy bars. That got the attention of the droids guarding them.

"What was that?" they heard one of them ask.

"I think it came from the cells."

"Go check it out."

"Roger, roger."

Unfortunately for the droid, it learned what happens when its thin, delicate neck meets the cutting light of an activated lightsaber. Thirteen caught the droid while Cryo caught its head. After setting them both carefully and quietly on the cell's floor, Cryo stood back while Thirteen grabbed the blaster.

"Let's get to work," Askara said, stepping out of the cell.

"How long is this supposed to take?" Pillar asked as he and his two brothers lay prone on the ground _just_ outside the base's perimeter.

"I don't know, but they'd better hurry," Hunter replied. "Those droids look like they're getting ready for an assault."

"Do you think reinforcements have finally arrived?" Whacker asked.

"They'd have to punch through the blockade, first, but I think that's more than possible."

"Is Formulca that strategically important?"

"According to our pre-mission briefing, it's near a hyperspace lane that our ships can use to get to the Outer Rim."

"You could've just said 'yes'."

"I thought I did."

"Can it, you two," Hunter cut in. "Besides, it's up to us to let the commander and the others know when they can make their move. Got the grenades ready?"

"_Troch_," Pillar and Whacker said in unison, using the Mandalorain word for "certainly." All three clones readied the supply of grenades they'd cached before the attack and then dug up after their brothers and commander had been 'captured.'

"_Ehn_," Hunter said, counting down in Mandalorian. "_T'ad_. _Solus_. _Oya_!" Then all three stood up and began tossing thermal detonators into the Sep base, landing them among the Armored Assault Tanks and Multi Troop Transports. Or, rather, landing _under_ them. Ducking back down, they began strapping the weapons and gear that had been hidden to themselves. Right as they stood up again, the thermal detonators began going off. Some of the AATs exploded from their fuel cells being ruptured, causing the ones next to them to explode. The MTTs didn't explode right away; the detonators just destroyed their repulsor lift systems, causing them to hit the ground. But one AAT's main gun fired as a thermal detonator not only ruptured the fuel cells but also created a short in the electrical systems that caused the fire control system to trigger the gun. The turret was facing straight ahead, which meant that the MTT across from it took the blast. While the front was heavily armored, this MTT was opened up to begin accepting a load of B1 battle droids. Which meant that the AAT's round went _through_ the opened hatch, punched deep into the interior, and then detonated - causing the transport's fuel cells and reactor to detonate as well. The force of the explosion caused the MTT next to it to explode, and so on in sympathetic detonation. The force of the blasts knocked Whacker, Pillar, and Hunter flying. They hit the ground harder than they'd expected, but rolled with it and came up running.

"Do you think that'll do as a signal," Whacker asked, "or should we use flares, too?"

The shockwaves from the combined explosions rippled through the base. Not _all_ of the tanks and transports had gone up from the various explosions, but most of the droids outside had gone up with them. Askara and the five clones with her were knocked flat when the shockwaves passed through their section of the facility, but they recovered quickly and hurried on their way. They had to get to the armory and see if they're helmets and weapons were there - though Askara had that disconcerting certainty that they were. Thanks to Askara and Thirteen's initial efforts, the entire team was now equipped with the blasters that were standard equipment for the battle droids. They knew they were outmatched by the sheer number of droids at the base, but if they could get to the power generator - as per the plan - then a few thermal detonators could destabilize it and blow the base.

"Are you sure that Mandalorian, father or not, will be able to help us?" Chief asked.

"I'm pretty sure," Askara replied.

Jak, fully armored again, strode into the base's command center amidst the strobe and whooping of the alarms. General Monka Monka was already there, yelling at the droids and trying to figure out what was going on. Jak's entrance, though, drew his attention.

"You!" he said, turning to face the mercenary. "This your fault!"

"You better explain yourself, 'General'," Jak said, not-so-subtly adjusting the angle of his blaster carbine. As he'd intended, the gesture didn't go unnoticed.

"You're supposed to be in charge of security! How is it that the prisoners were able to escape, then?!"

"Looking at the security holovids, General," he replied, "it seems as though the Jedi cut her way through the cells between her and her troops, then used a Jedi Force trick to open the cells. The rest is rather obvious."

"How did she get the lightsaber back?! _You_ had both of the ones she had!"

"She's a Jedi. My guess would be that she used a Force trick to get the lightsaber off my belt without it being noticed."

"I'm holding you responsible! When Count Dooku learns of this-"

"You mean learns of your failure to contain the situation," Jak interrupted, his altered voice colder than vacuum. "You 'ordered' me to place the Jedi and the clones in the cell block. I did so, though I interrogated the Jedi before imprisoning her. You are responsible for this base, and the Separatist efforts on this world."

"You failed to keep your contract!" Monka Monka screamed. "You're fired!"

"Is that so?" Jak said. "You're certain about that?"

"Get out of here, you Hutt slime!"

"You'll regret that insult." Jak turned and left without another word. And the gossam sank down into his seat because his trembling legs would no longer hold him.

They found the armory, although it was a running battle as increasing numbers of droids started intercepting them (thankfully, no destroyer droids yet). Askara slashed the control panel, causing a short-circuit that triggered the doors open. Surprisingly, as she had predicted, their helmets, weapons, and gear were in it - along with a small case of thermal detonators.

"Either this is a trap," Cryo said, picking up his blaster, "or your _buir_ was on the level."

"It wasn't a coincidence that he happened to be on Formulca at the same time we are," she said. She picked up a datapad that was next to the case and thumbed it on. Immediately, a schematic of the base popped up - with a route to the reactor highlighted in gold. Before anyone could say anything, though, a series of blaster bolts shot through the open door of the armory. Askara whipped around, her lightsaber flashing and picking off the incoming bolts.

"Alright, change of plans," she said, raising her voice to be heard over the noise of battle. "Guys, you take that datapad and head to the power generator room. Set the detonators then get out of there as fast as you can."

"What about you, Commander?" Thirteen asked, speaking for the first time since they'd 'infiltrated' the base.

"I'll draw their attention," she replied, batting a bolt back into a battle droid's head. Even though it had only been a few days since they'd crash landed on Formulca, Askara had changed a great deal. Chief nodded, and gestured for Sabre to grab the case of thermal detonators. "Ready?" Askara asked. At his nod, she leapt forward, her lightsaber flashing. "Go!"

She burst out of the armory's doorway, the squad right behind her. They cut right, blasting the droids ahead of them apart as she sent a push of Force energy through a group of droids attempting to follow them. Super battle droids started coming down the corrider at her, their arm-mounted blasters firing as fast as they could cycle. Askara sank into the Force, abandoning her control and letting the Force guide her actions. Her lightsaber flashed, darted, and swung, picking off and deflecting blaster bolts. If she had been more aware of her actions, she would have marveled at the speed and fluidity with which she moved. And while she couldn't sense the droids through the Force, she could sense the eddies they made in it; plus, the real-time warnings she got from the Force regarding threats to her helped immensely. Then she was among the battle droids and SBDs, her lightsaber weaving a stream of orange light as it sliced through durasteel and circuitry. She wore an expression of complete serenity on her face.

"Retreat! Fallback!" a commander droid called out, and the battle droids turned and tried to flee the attacking Jedi. The SBDs fell back, as well, but it was a firing retreat. Not that it did them any good; she deflected the bolts into the walls, floor, ceiling, retreating droids. Before she was aware of it, she was outside among the buildings of the base, with more blaster fire coming at her as the rest of the droids converged on her position. She was still batting blaster bolts around when a disturbance in the Force caught her attention.

A rain of blaster bolts pouring into the droids was accompanied by a roaring sound. Looking up, Askara saw the flares of a rocket pack. Then a familiar armored figure touched down in front of her. Standing, her father tossed her Bel Rof's lightsaber before jetting off again, his blaster carbines spitting blaster bolts at the droids. The lightsaber sprang to life the moment it landed in her hand, it's amber blade blending nicely with the orange fo her own. As her blades twisted and turned, picking off blaster bolts, Askara watched the father she hadn't seen for ten years in action.

Cutting off the thrust of his jet pack, Jak tucked himself into a ball and flipped in mid-air, then straightened out and spun around, one carbine in its 'rack' on his back, the other in his hands firing out bolt after bolt of coherent light in a spray of automatic fire. Though not possessing a drop of the Force, his aim had been honed by years and years of fighting, beginning since he was eight years old. Each bolt hit a super battle droid, though one bolt wasn't enough to penetrate their armor; but it wasn't just one bolt that hit, it was several. They wore away at the armor and punched into the interior, causing damage or outright destruction. Hitting the ground, he let momentum put him into a kneeling crouch, his carbing going to the other slot on his back and a trio of mini-rockets blasting out of a forearm launcher while the other hand pulled out a long-barreled blaster pistol. The trio of rockets pierced the reactor compartment of a just-unfolded destroyer droid, detonating it with an intense explosion that destroyed or damaged all the droids around it. The blaster pistol spat out stuttering streams of bolts with each pull of the trigger, peppering battle droids with smoking holes. Then blaster bolts from _outside_ the encircling droids caught both warriors' attention. Pillar, Whacker, and Hunter had arrived.

And just then, the shaded valley became brighter than the day around it as the base's reactor detonated. Everyone and everything was knocked to the ground from the force of the explosion and the shock wave. Jak stood up, his armor smoking and pierced from the bolts he'd been unable to avoid. He walked over to the clone troopers and held out a hand.

"Need a hand, _vod_?" he asked. Whacker, the one he'd approached, looked him up and down, then grasped the hand.

"Thought you were working for the Seps?" he asked as he helped his brothers to stand.

"My employment was terminated. Irreconcilable differences."

"Thanks for the help," Pillar said, slapping Jak on the shoulder.

"So you three are clones like the other five, right?"

"Last time I looked in a mirror."

"You don't seem like it to me." Then Askara came walking over.

"Have any of you heard from Chief and the others? I don't have my comm," she said.

"Right here, Commander," Chief called out. Everyone turned and saw the five spec ops troopers staggering towards them.

"Are you guys alright?" she asked.

"We'll be fine, ma'am," Thirteen told her. "Got some good news, though. Republic reinforcements broke through the blockade right about the time we began our break out. Larty's are incoming, ETA is twenty minutes."

"In that case, I should be going now," Jak said, rolling his shoulders.

"Do you have to, _buir_?" Askara asked.

"_Buir_?" Pillar, Whacker, and Hunter said in unison. She laughed.

"I'll explain later, _vod_," she answered. Then she looked at her father. "I'm sure we can explain things."

"I'm certain you can, _ad'ika_," he said, calling her 'daughter' in Mandalorian. "But I can't risk it. Not at this time."

"I understand," she replied, her gaze falling to her feet. Jak reached over and raised her chin so she was looking at his visor slit.

"I know you do," he said gently. "But know that I _do_ love you, _ner ad_. We shall meet again; trust the Force on that."

"I will, _buir_." He stepped back a ways.

"Know, too, that I am _very_ proud of you."

"We'll take care of her, sir," Thirteen said, stepping forward and holding out a gloved hand. Jak didn't hesitate, but walked right over and shook the clone's hand.

"I'll hold you to that," he replied. "Keep her as safe as you can."

"No matter the cost," Chief agreed, stepping up beside his brother. Nodding to them both, and taking one last look at his daughter, Jak Boken turned and walked away from the burning ruins of the main CIS base on Formulca.

**End Note:** Talk about an explosive chapter. I know the ending may seem a little cliche, but I think it works. The battle scenes might have been a little short, but I felt that they were pretty intense. Reviews very welcome.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own Star Wars or anything associated with it. I do not own the Galactic Republic, the Seperatists, the Jedi, and so on. All I own are the characters of Special Tactics Squad 1-17, General Monka Monka of the Seperatists, Master Bel Rof, and Padawan Askara Jento. And if any of you want to use them, ask me first.

**Author's Note:** Special Tactics Squad 1-17 consists of Chief (CT-1543), Thirteen (CT-1313), Whacker (CT-5505), Sabre (CT-6674), Falcon (CT-6675), Hunter (CT-4509), Pillar (CT-2552), and Cryo (CT-0104) and, unofficially, Askara Jento. Sergeant Kal Skirata was the primary training sergeant for STS/1-17.

**Special Tactics Squad 1-17**

**Part 1: Unlikely Allies**

_Rhen Var, one year later_

Askara Jento lowered the macrobinoculars from her eyes as a cold, snow-filled wind kicked up. She was dressed in the cold-weather gear issued to the Grand Army of the Republic, though she had supplemented it with armor components from the Phase-I series of armor once used by the clone troopers. She didn't wear the limited armor that General Kenobi was reputed to wear, but she wasn't in the entire suit, either. _Hard to believe it's been a year_, she thought as she turned to the clone commander in charge of the unit she was leading.

"Commander Lok," she said, "have the scouts reported in yet?"

"Yes, General," he replied. "They've pinpointed the Separatist forces approximately five klicks away from them in Grid Section Delta-Three-Niner-Bravo."

"That's pretty close," she said, tucking her macros into their compartment on her belt. She was still getting used to being addressed as 'general' rather than 'commander;' though she was only fifteen standard now, her actions on Formulca a year ago and since had fast-tracked her to becoming a Jedi Knight. She'd kept her padawan braid with her as a reminder of what had happened on Formulca.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are the walkers in position?"

"Not yet, General. They're having some trouble negotiating the terrain."

"We can't hold off on the assault much longer," she noted, turning back to the front. She adjusted the strap that secured the sniper blaster rifle to her back, then brushed a hand against the lightsaber hanging against her belt. While she still had Bel Rof's lightsaber, she kept it more as a good luck charm than to actually use; it was secured to the combat webbing she wore to carry extra power cells for her rifle. "We'll have to start without them, and adjust the battle plan accordingly. Flexibility and adaptability are the key, Commander."

"Right you are, General," Lok replied.

"Do you feel strange serving under a Jedi who looks younger than you, and isn't much older chronologically?" she asked.

"I assume that you know what you're doing, ma'am."

"Not precisely the question I asked."

"Sorry, General. No, I don't find it strange. While you haven't trained for war, as we clones have been, you seem to have an innate grasp of tactics and strategy, and you place trust in your subordinates to handle situations as they develop. You don't act as though you're in charge; and by that I mean you don't throw your rank or the fact that you're a Jedi around. You ask advice when you need it, and accept counsel when it's given. You're a commander, a general, that many of us are more than willing to follow."

"Thank you for your words, Commander," Askara said, smiling beneath the mask she wore across her face. "I've always known that this isn't the life I was raised for, but I had to adapt quickly when I lost my master and found myself leading a detachment of clone troopers against a vastly superior hostile force."

"I've heard about that, ma'am. It was tactically unwise to assault a numerically superior force in a superior position that also possessed foreknowledge of your presence."

"But you approve."

"You planned the mission well, you adapted to the situation as it developed, and you kept your soldiers alive. The audaciousness of your plan meant that a typical enemy commander wouldn't expect it."

She nodded in acknowledgement of his words, then said, "Order the troops forward. Let's follow the overall strategy, and keep our tactics fluid and strong."

"Yes, General."

The 773rd Battalion had been engaged with the droid forces for about a standard hour now. The droids had numbers on their side, and firepower, but the AT-TEs attached to the unit were closing the distance and had entered extreme range for their main guns. Askara's strategy had called for the bulk of the unit to pin the droid army in place, focus it's attention on them, while the faster recon and cavalry units flanked them and attempted to hit the rear of their formation. She used her sniper rifle to pick off the droid commanders, wet or metal, with equal calm; while Jedi were supposed to value the sanctity of all life, Askara had a more extreme definition of that. Each organic commander she took out was an enemy combatant, and this was a battlefield; if _they_ truly valued life, she held, then they wouldn't have been there in the first place.

The first clue she had that anything was wrong was just a twitch in the Force. But it was enough to get her rolling out of the way as a hail of blaster bolts hit the spot she'd just occupied. Springing to her feet with a twist and a backflip, she was shocked to see it was clone troopers that had opened fire on her. Not understanding what was going on but trusting to her instincts - and the Force - she slung her rifle and drew her lightsaber in the smooth motion, it's orange blade springing to life. Letting the Force flow through her, she moved her lightsaber to pick off or deflect blaster bolts. She did know that she wouldn't be able to keep it up indefinitely, and more clone troopers would move to cut her off, if they weren't doing so already. Staying here was a death sentence, so Askara grabbed a concussion grenade off her belt and lobbed it with a Force-assisted throw at the troopers firing on her - including Commander Lok. As they dove for cover, she sprinted away while simultaneously slinging her sniper rifle around. Trusting the Force, she squeezed the trigger and dropped the rifle and web harness. The one bolt shot through the snow-filled air-

-and pierced the helmet of Commander Lok, CC-7793, knocking him dead off his feet. Literally.

She had no hope of escaping into the wilds of Rhen Var and surviving long enough to steal away on a ship; the only ships on-world were Separatist and GAR, and both would (now) kill her. Plus, there were no 'wilds' on Rhen Var to escape into, since the whole world was snow and ice. She had to get to the Republic staging area and commander a hyperspace-capable ship.

_And now I have no chance_, she thought as she saw the approaching line of walkers that she'd ordered up. Apparently, reinforcements had landed and were moving along with the walkers. Speeder bikes accelerated as the walkers' advanced sensors caught her; plus, her orange-bladed lightsaber stood out in the stark white landscape around her. She activated Bel Rof's lightsaber and readied herself for a last stand.

A last stand that was forestalled as a rain of blaster bolts shot down from the sky and raked the speeding clones off of their bikes. Snapping her gaze skyward, she was shocked to see the flares of descending jetpacks. She was getting a familiar Force tingle from the dropping warriors, but she couldn't place it. The eight figures touched down in a semi-circle, between her and the clone forces still approaching. The AT-TEs began aiming their main guns for firing. One of the figures turned to her, and Askara felt her mouth drop open in shock. Looking at her was the T-visored and finned shape of a gray-and-black Phase-I helmet.

"Are you alright, Commander?" Chief asked, his voice as familiar to her as her own.

"What are you doing here?" she couldn't help blurting out.

"Saving your life, ma'am," Sabre said, snap-firing a rocket launcher towards the walkers.

"But why?"

"The Supreme Chancellor issued Order Sixty-Six," Thirteen said. " 'In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander/Chancellor, Gee-Ay-Are commanders will remove those officers by lethal force, and command of the Gee-Ay-Are will revert to the Supreme Commander/Chancellor until a new command structure is established.' "

"We verified the orders," Chief said. "The Supreme Chancellor did issue the orders. However, we have determined that the orders are in error, as we have seen no evidence of Jedi officers acting against the Republic."

"You're disobeying orders?" she asked in disbelief.

"Absolutely," Whacker said, his sniper rifle picking off a gunner on one of the walkers.

"Undoubtedly," Falcon agreed.

"So do you have a plan for getting out of here?"

"It should be coming now," Cryo replied. Before she could speak, a roar began echoing in her ears. Looking around, she saw a rather unusual and unique starship coming towards them at high speed. Before she could react, it fired off a pair of proton torpedoes that impacted with the Republic line. Flaring its nose up to kill its speed, the ship switched to repulsors and a boarding ramp on its side opened and descended - even though the ship was well over five meters above the ground. Special Tactics Squad 1-17 activated their jump packs and soared into the air to land on the ramp, Askara using the Force to follow them. The ramp began retracting and closing as she landed, and Thirteen pulled her in.

"We've got to move fast, Commander," he said. "Republic fighters will be closing in, and cruisers will most likely be vectoring in to cut off our escape."

"But how did you know where I was in the first place?" she asked.

"We recieved a coded message from an 'independent reconnaissance unit'," Chief explained as everyone sat down and strapped in. "And . . . there was a transponder hidden in Bel Rof's lightsaber. Good thing you never activated that second blade of his."

She shook her head, holding all further questions as the ship flew out of Rhen Var's atmosphere. She could feel its manuevers as it dodged turbolaser and cannon blasts. She could sense when it was clear of the planet's gravity well, and feel the shift to hyperspace. She'd just unlocked herself and stood up when the ship's pilot strode in. Her face lit up in delight and genuine happiness and she rushed forward, hugging her father.

"_Vore'e_, _buir_," she said ('thank you, father').

"_Kar'tayli ad meg hukaat'kama_, _ad'ika_," Jak Boken replied, rubbing his daughter's head. (Know who's watching your back, daughter.)

**Part 2 - **_**Shereshoy**_

_Seven years later_

Askara sat waiting in the cantina's darkened interior, one leg propped up on the opposite knee and her arms crossed. Not one other person in the cantina, as unsavory as they were, so much as sent an uncomfortable look in her direction. And with good reason; like wookies, no one was dumb enough to upset a Mandalorian, especially one who had at least two blasters and a thermal detonator in reach. Underneath her _buy'ce_ (helmet), she was wearing a satisfied smirk. She knew it wasn't appropriate for a Jedi to experience satisfaction at such a situation, but she hadn't been a Jedi ever since Order 66 and the Purge. She hadn't given up using the Force, but she only ever used it as a danger warning or to get a reading on someone during negotiations. Other than that, she had given herself completely over to her _Mando_ identity. She'd even changed her name, though that was as much due to protecting herself from Vader and his Jedi hunters as a desire to identify herself with the Mandalorian heritage she'd gone 11 years without.

"So you're Carta Boken?" said a voice in accented basic. Turning her head to look directly at the person, she saw a tall, bearded human male.

"It's Kar'tay Boken," she said, her voice altered by her helmet. "Sit."

"Sorry about that," he replied, taking a seat at her table. "I'm not too familiar with you Mandalorians."

"You asked for this meeting," she interrupted. "Do you have a job?"

"The people I represent would like to procure your group's services."

"What's the job?"

"Do you have a problem dealing with Imperial troops?"

"If you're wanting an assault force, you're talking to the wrong people."

"No, nothing like that. But there may exist a possibility that Imperial troops will be encountered," the man said. "The planet has an Imperial garrison, but it isn't near where the job will happen."

"Snatch and grab?"

"Yes, actually."

"Living or non?"

"Both, actually. I'll be blunt. My employer's daughter was kidnapped by a rival with Imperial ties. He wants her back, obviously, as well as the records his rival possesses, and is willing to pay whatever price you set."

"What's your employer do?"

"Officially, he runs a transportation and shipping business from theMid to Outer Rims. Independent contractor. Unofficially, he runs supplies for the groups that are opposing Emperor Palpatine and his Galactic Empire."

"And you know the reputation of the _Kade Mando'ad_, of course."

"Yes. It's rather at odds with the sterotypes common to Mandalorians."

"So you want to hire us to extract your employer's daughter, then?"

"I'm simply the agent, though I have the authority to sign your group up and give you a retainer."

"You do realize we don't exactly have a reputation for subtle methods, don't you?"

"My employer is fine with that."

"Fine. Minimum of twenty thousand credits."

"I can give you that as a retainer, and eighty thousand more upon completion."

"He's desperate, your employer. One hundred thousand credits for a simple extraction? Fifty thousand, with a five-thousand non-refundable retainer."

"Alright," he said, setting a stack of credit chips on the table. Here's the five thousand, in two-hundred denominations." Then he put a datacard on the table as well. "That contains a frequency for contacting my employer directly, along with the funding to use for a Holonet transmission."

"Give us two standard weeks, and we'll be contacting you." He nodded, and left the table, then the cantina. She pocketed the credit chips and datacard, then activating her helmet's comm.

"_Buir_," she said. "We've got a job."

_"Come on in, then,_ ad'ika_. The boys and I are waiting."_

"It won't be an easy one."

_"Our tasks never are. You did good,_ Kar'ika_."_

She smiled and shut off the comm, then stood and left the table. As she neared the cantina's door, a pair of gamorreans moved into her way. She didn't have to look to know that someone was behind her, and really wasn't surprised to hear an accented voice say in Basic, "I think you've got something to share."

Turning with a sigh that was inaudible outside her helmet, she saw a faleen male with a scar down one side of his face.

"Hello, Sturvis," Kar'tay said. "How long did it take you to get the _gett'se_ to confront me this time?"

"You'll pay for your insults, Mandalorian."

"And you think two pigs will help you do that?"

"If you give me the credits you just got, I'll forget all about it." She sighed and shook her head. Then she turned around with right arm raised and put a blaster bolt between each of the gamorrean's eyes. Then she turned around and put a bolt into both of Sturvis's legs, causing him to cry out as he fell to the floor. She aimed her blaster right between his eyes.

"_Ke nu'jurkadir sha Mando'ade_," she said coldly, then pulled the trigger. Holstering her blaster with a spin and toss, she pulled a thirty-denomination credit out of her belt and tossed it to the barkeep. "That should help clean up the trash," she said, then turned and left.

Back at the _Gai bal Manda_, she met her father at the ship's open boarding ramp. Taking off her _buy'ce_, she grinned up at him and winked, before tossing him the pouch of credits.

"So what's the job, _ad'ika_?" he asked, snatching it out of the air with practiced ease.

"Snatch and grab," Kar'tay replied. "We've been hired to rescue a shipping magnate's daughter, and steal the records of his rival. He was going to pay a treasure, but I convinced him to a lower price, since what was offered was a rather obscene amount."

She'd walked up the ramp, so Jak slapped an arm across the back of her shoulders.

"It's good to have you back, _ad'ika_," he said warmly.

"I wish things hadn't happened like they did," she said, "but I'm not upset with the result."

"_Shereshoy darasuum_," he said. (Together forever.)

"_Shereshoy darasuum_," she agreed. "You sure you don't mind having a group?"

"We're all family," he told her, "whether we're related or not. _Aliit ori'shya taldin_." (Family is more than bloodties.) Then he smiled at her. "Besides, _Kade Mando'ad_ is a fitting name, considering that two of us have trained to use lightsabers."

"Yeah, you're okay for an old guy," she said, punching his side.

"Give me some credit."

"I just gave you five thousand of 'em."

"You cheeky little _di'kut_," he said, rubbing her head.

"I take after my _buir_," she retorted. Then her face became thoughtful. "_Buir_?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think we could do that? Recruit Force-users?"

"We Mandalorians don't exactly have a good history with Force-users."

"I know, but these wouldn't be Jedi or Sith," she said. "_We'd_ be the ones training them."

"Wait, wait. Force using Mandalorians?" he said, stunned. She grinned.

"It's a Jedi's worst nightmare. Remember Jusik Barden?"

"True, but both of you are an exception."

"Who says we have to be? I'm not saying we be altruistic or anything, but how about we get paid for doing good? Or at least killing off the worst of the galaxy's scum."

"You know, _Kar'ika_," Jak said, cupping his chin in thought and rubbing it slightly, "that doesn't sound like too bad of an idea. After all, that's what your mother was going to do for you in a way. She was going to train you in the ways of the Force, teach you how to build a lightsaber. While the two of us raise you as _Mando_."

"So we can do it?"

"Let's see how this job goes, then we'll talk."

**End Note:** And that's that. The end of Special Tactics Squad 1-17. I hope everyone's enjoyed the story. I liked how the characters matured as the story went on, especially Askara.

Now I have a request of you readers; besides leaving reviews, that is.

I enjoyed this story so much that I want to do another one, but I can't decide whether to do a sequel or a prequel. A sequel would pick up from where this chapter left off, talking about the start of the Force-using clan of Mandalorians known as the Blades of Mandalore (or _Kade Mando'ad_). A prequel would center around Jakran Boken, Surra Jento, Bel Rof, and would explain in more detail the TMT 'Keeping a Promise' (which can be found in **From the Jedi Archives**). Also, it would feature a character from another Star Wars fanfic, Kyrr Geron of the story **Kyrr Geron** by the dude person (y'all should check that story out, it's _ori'kandosii_).

Anyways, my request is for you readers, in your reviews, to give me your opinion on whether I should do a sequel or a prequel next.


End file.
